Footprints in the Snow
By- an-angel-in-hell
Rating- PG-13. This chapter is ok, but it'll get intense later… yeah.
Pairing- CR for now. By the end of the fic? We'll see…
Summary- Christine literally runs into Erik on the streets of Paris, and he notices that she is different…despite her insistence, is Christine really happy as a Vicomtess?
Disclaimer- PotO is not mine. Don't sue me unless you want checks wallet 11.34. And also, the ending of this chapter pretty much is stolen from 9 Chickweed Lane, by Brooke McEldowney.
Story Notes- I stole the ending from the comic strip 9 Chickweed Lane, so… yeah. It's brilliant, so therefore not mine! Lol.
-Erik was uncomfortable. He had told Nadir that he would be over at seven, but he was seriously beginning to regret that, because the streets were still rather crowded. The fact that it was lightly snowing did not seem to keep people away from the shopping district he was now passing through.
As if to reiterate the mental point he had just made, a young woman turned the corner and bumped straight into him. Automatically, Erik turned his head so that his hood obstructed the masked side of his face.
"I'm sorry monsier." The woman mumbled, beginning to walk along her way.
That voice… Even though he had not heard it in almost a year, he would know it anywhere.
"Wait!" he cried, whirling around.
She turned, confusion written on her face. "Monsier?"
"Christine?" Erik asked, not daring to believe it was she.
She remained mystified for a moment, then several emotions flicked across her face. Surprise, fear, and- was it joy? He hardly dared hope.
"Erik!" she beamed up at him. "It's been so long! How have you been?"
He blinked. Whatever reaction he had expected, this had not been it. "I- I'm fine." He stammered.
"Well, it's good to see you out and about." She told him. "I'd imagined you staying in that drafty old cellar forever." Her tone was light and friendly. He imagined an ordinary person might be put at ease by it, but he was not. Everything about Christine, from the phrases she used to the elaborate dress she wore screamed falsehood. This was not the Christine he knew.
"I considered it." He replied seriously. He had, but Nadir had managed to bring him out of his depression.
Christine looked mildly surprised. "Well, I'm certainly glad you haven't." she seemed serious about this at least.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments.
"Have you done any composing since we last met?' she asked. The false expression was nearly gone from her face now; Erik could almost see the true Christine underneath the falseness.
"No." he said quietly. "Everything musical… well, it reminded me of you."
Christine looked uncomfortable, and Erik realized why. She seemed to have set a limit for the conversation, a silent agreement that their talk would not go beyond light chatter. Erik had just gone beyond that limit, and it had unsettled her.
Dear God, he thought, what has that boy done to her? This was not Christine. This was some brainless aristocrat standing before him.
But of course. Said a voice inside his head. After all, she is a Vicomtesse now.
"How is your husband?" he asked. It killed him to bring the Vicomte into the conversation, but he had to know.
Something flickered through her eyes, and for a moment she was completely still. Then the fake smile was back upon her face. "Oh, Raoul's fine, just fine." She told him. "In fact, he has recently struck up a friendship with the Duke of Normandy, we're going to his estate for dinner… that reminds me, I need to meet my hansom… would you happen to have the time?"
"What?" her expression when he mentioned Raoul had disturbed him. What had her expression been? It had been too quick for him to tell. "Oh! Yes, right here…" he took out his pocket watch. "It's nearly seven."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Then I really must go."
"Would you like me to escort you?" he asked, trying to be the gentleman she clearly expected.
That brief glimpse of fear flitted across her face again, and then it was gone, the fake smile in it's place.
"Oh, no thank you, it's just around the corner."
Erik's heart sunk. Of course she doesn't want you to escort her, you fool! He thought. She has a husband now; she's the Vicomtess de Chagny! So for God's sake, stop trying to charm your way back into her life!
"Will I see you again?" she asked.
At the beginning of their conversation, his heart would have soared at her words. But he had felt thoroughly put in his place by her last statement, and his pride got the better of him.
"I don't think that would be a good idea.' He said stiffly.
Her face fell, and he hated himself for causing her so much pain. "But why not?" she asked, seeming genuinely disappointed.
He sighed. "Christine…" Why did you have to say her name? Every time you say it, it sounds like a plea! "You chose life with the Vicomte. It is a life in which I do not belong. I would be intruding." He finished bitterly.
"Erik, no! You wouldn't be!" she exclaimed.
"Are you so sure that the Vicomte would see it that way?" he asked.
She sighed. "You're right." She admitted.
Once more there was silence between them, broken only when church bells began to chime the hour.
Her eyes widened. "Is it seven already? Oh, Erik, I really must go, but… it was nice seeing you. I mean it." There was no trace of the false side of her in her last words, and for a moment he saw the old Christine standing before him.
"Farewell, Christine." He said softly.
She smiled at him, and hurried away.
Erik stood there for a long time, and watched her footprints fill up with snow.
Aww… poor Erik… I know I'm mean to him but I do it out of LOVE! Ok, that made no sense, but please people, humor the demented authoress. And review! Now! Please.
